The Hidden Princess
by mintaddiction
Summary: The Princess is dead. Her country verges on the edge of danger in dark times. And so, a replacement is called. Fair, blue eyed and golden haired, Noelle is thrust unceremoniously into their neighbouring Kingdom as a symbol of peace and a bride to their Crown Prince. Can she find her feet in her new role, or will she falter under the fast moving politics of a mercenary royal court?
1. Chapter One

**A/N:** This is first attempt at a Fairy Tale. I hope it turns out well, and I welcome all critique in the form of reviews & PMs!  
Very loosely based on the traditional tale 'The Goose Girl' and the retelling by Shannon Hale - but as the story progresses, no further parallels can be drawn.  
Read and review at your pleasure!  
**Disclaimer:** This is a non-profitable piece of writing. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The Princess was dead.

A heavy silence hung over the darkened room. There was no cries of anguish, no howls of despair.

Just a pensive, foreboding silence.

I shrank further into the shadows of the embroidered walls, twisting my fingers nervously behind my back. The presence of death overpowered me, choking my lungs, clogging the back of my throat. I clamped my lips shut as I fought the need to cough.

We all regarded the Queen fearfully, our exquisitely beautiful, cold, icy monarch. She stood tall and regal over the wasted body of her only daughter, her stance still powerful. Only the bow of her head showed any form of emotion.

The silence still held.

Finally, the First Chamberlain started forwards slowly, his forehead furrowed with sorrow. He sank to a low bow at the Queen's feet, only the slightest shake of his hands betraying his wariness of her reaction.

"Your Majesty," he whispered, his voice torn with sadness – or was it fear? One never knew when it comes to dealings with this Queen. "Your Majesty, we must begin the mourning period at once. The nation will share your agony; we will all grieve the passing of such a fine young princess." There was a small murmur of agreement around the room. I remained silent, concentrating on the whiteness of the chamberlain's knuckles as he clasped his hands together tightly. "God on high has seen fit to take her under his wing – it is his will, and though we will mourn, we shall not forget. Allow the court to ring the funeral bell, Your Majesty-"

"No-one is to leave this room." The flat, emotionless voice rang out, authority present in every syllable. The Queen turned her head, and fixed the Chamberlain with a burning gaze.

"B-But, Your Majesty-"

"I said," she struck again, her clipped voice low and dangerous, "not a single soul present is permitted to leave this room." She drew up to her full, fearsome height, and cast us all a steel glare. "No-one. Not a single chambermaid, a fainting Lady-in-Waiting, nor an impatient pageboy. If any member here so much as dares to look out the window-" she paused, cold anger emanating from her every pore, "they will know the full extent of an abandoned mother's fury."

The room breathed a collective sigh as the Queen and her stony faced advisor swept away. The old maids helped the terrified Chamberlain back onto his feet, and small mutterings began to break out, the relief tangible in the air.

And yet, I noticed with pang of pity and fear, everyone ignored the fresh corpse on the plush bed.

Sidling along the carpeted wall, I shifted to the left to afford a better look of the late Princess.

The Princess nobody knew.

Only a few knew her name, her full title. We, the Hidden Court, simply called her Princess.

Nobody ever meant the title anyway. She was treated with indifference from her servants, who only kept their place for the generous amount of money the Queen was willing to give to maintain our secrecy.

For, this Princess had been born weak, ailing and doomed to a short life. Her mother and father, the late King, may God rest his soul, were ashamed of their daughter's ill health. No monarch should ever birth a weak child.

And so, from the hour she was born, they had kept her veiled in mystery, making her an elusive figure to the public, stashing her in the east wing of the palace, where the Hidden Court was created to attend to her every need. Foreign, exotic wise men and healers were often admitted to try and better her ill health, but it was hopeless. The Princess was, and would stay, ill.

The cities ran rife with rumours and stories of this nameless Princess's tale – the most common belief being that she had been born with such a blinding beauty and a kind disposition, that it was not fit for every peasant, every casual man to look upon her perfection. She was the subject of every idle maid's gossip, the fantasy of many workmen.

I sighed as I looked upon the limp strands of dull yellow hair on the pillow, the unhealthy grey tinged pallor of her skin. Contrary to the tales, neither health nor beauty had touched our unfortunate Princess.

But what do I know of beauty? I know little beyond this East Wing, only permitted to exit the walls into the full court upon three occasions in my sixteen years. See, it would not do for a member of the Hidden Court to be tempted into revealing the Princess's ailments. Upon my infancy, my father became the appointed musician for the sickly Princess, I have been sealed inside these walls along with her as her playmate, ordered for years to try and provoke her enthusiasm, to charm life into her.

A curious mix of relief and sorrow washed over my tongue as I approached the bed warily, inspecting the only friend I have ever known, although our relationship was rather forced. Without her, I can finally live.

She had never known life at all.

I smoothed her dry hair off her forehead, feeling the familiar brittleness of the dry locks in my hands.

"May God relieve you, Princess," I whispered. An unexpected tear gathered in my eye. I turned my head away, and concentrated on the tassels of the carpet instead.

* * *

"Noelle?" There was a gentle tug on my wrist. I looked up into my father's haggard face. Worry creased his brow. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. "We are free, father," I told him chokingly, the enormity of what this death meant for me sinking into my consciousness. I stepped towards the tiny window overlooking the east courtyard – a view that had taunted me for years. "We can finally leave."

My father tightened his grip on my arm. "We cannot be so sure of that, my love," he whispered in a strained voice.

Surprised, I looked up. "Why ever not?" I demanded, my voice rising higher than it should.

My father turned away from the window tiredly, pulling me with him. "There is no knowing what our Queen may do in her anger," he murmured in a low voice. "Now that the Princess, may God rest her soul, is gone, we remain simply as witnesses to the royal family's deception of the public. Even if they announce the death, they may not reveal her weak health over the years. They will be wary of us, afraid of our tongues and knowledge. They might never, completely let us go."

I swallowed hard. Strain, uncertainty, and _fear_ were traced so clearly on his face. My eyes darted around the room – and I noticed similar emotions on each grave face, despite their attempts to start lively conversation.

Shut in, alone with the royal corpse, we, the hidden court, simply sat and waited.

For two days and two nights.

We sat, hardly breathing, hardly living.

* * *

I curled up on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace, my eyes trained on the window. I heard the faint trills of birdsong through the thick pane. My fingers tapped impatiently. It had been long – too long – since I have been outside. I longed to feel the full strength of the sun on my skin, to see the faces of people my age, to learn their traits, their fancies, to taste life away from the Hidden Court. To ride a horse, to taste a banquet, to visit the dressmakers, to learn to dance. Was it asking too much?

I sighed dreamily, and laid my head back on the hard marble of the fireplace. The room was empty, expect for myself, and the Princess. The wasted body on the bed was covered with a dark sheet of velvet. I avoided looking at the contours under the material. I heard the strains of tense conversation from sitting room, where the rest of the Court was congregated. They had refused to sit in her room, flocking away from the traces of death.

But, somehow, I had not wanted her to be alone.

* * *

I snapped on the third day.

"This is ridiculous!" I stormed, not caring about my voice carrying down the hall. I rounded on my father angrily. "Are we royal prisoners? Have we committed treason? How dare she lock us up as if – as if we've committed some treacherous offence!"

"Noelle," Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper began soothingly, "Calm down, dear. I'm sure the Queen's just in a state of shock. We are hardly the priority at the moment."

I scoffed. "We've never, ever been priority. She might have just left us here to starve."

"Noelle!" Mrs Reynolds reprimanded me sharply. "Watch your tongue! You may have been brought up here without anyone to curb your manners, but I'm warning you, the moment you step out into the wider world, your behaviour will quickly be criticized if you carry on this way."

"If we stay here, I'm not going to have a chance to experience the world anyway!" I railed, ignoring the warning. "This is sheer stupidity-"

"The Queen!" We heard a courier announce below. "The Queen!"

The room stiffened noticeably.

"Go back to your seat, Noelle," Mrs Reynolds whispered. Her grip on my hands tightens, and I looked up into her suddenly aged and weary face. She held me close for one second, before pushing me back to my chair beside the window.

"What is she-"

"Don't ask anything. Just… just try to stay quiet," Father muttered tersely, seating himself in front of me, as if to shield me from view.

Kira reached across and gave my hand a squeeze.

"The Queen! The Queen!" the call resounded from down the corridor. Shakily, the First Chamberlain rose, his fat, round face sweating, patting his white hair nervously.

The marching footfalls of the entourage stopped before the door.

"The Queen!" the last cry rang. The heavy oak door flung open. "The Queen!"

The tall, imperious monarch finally swept in – and I stifled a shocked gasp.

For once, her masses of dark hair were not swept up into an immaculate style. The irises of the icy eyes were swollen, enveloping them in black. Her skin was unhealthily pale and pinched, giving her a ghostly aura.

She stood, her thin silhouette highlighted against the brightness of the hallway, her gaze sweeping the room.

If it was possible, her glare burned more than usual.

The First Chamberlain deflated in front of her imposing figure before lowering his quivering head. "Y-Your Majesty-"

"Where is the girl?" That feared voice bit out imperiously. She looked down disdainfully at his fat figure, the very tilt of her head full of contempt.

The First Chamberlain visibly flinched, jerking back slightly. "T-The Princess, Your Majesty?" His eyes flickered towards the closed door leading to the Princess's chambers. "But, Your Majesty, the P-Princess is d-dea-"

"The other girl. Where is the Princess's companion?"

My father stiffened in front of me. His fist clenched tightly as he looked at the Chamberlain imploringly.

The poor man sweated as his head swivelled between my father and the queen uneasily.

"The girl, you imbecile?" The steel coated voice softened dangerously.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and clenched his hands together. "Y-You must mean N-Noelle, Your M-Majesty," he whispered.

My head snapped up from the carpet. A small noise emitted from my father's throat. His arm jerked involuntarily towards me.

Black, emotionless eyes met my own. "Bring her here," the Queen demanded quietly.

Nobody moved.

The Queen seemed to draw strength from our little act of defiance, and a small grimace of a smile graced her lips. She drew herself up straight, and looked at me straight on. "I have an issue to discuss with you," she stated imperiously. Striding along to the doors linked to the Princess's chambers, she held them open. "Would you care to join me?"

My mouth dropped open for a moment, before I rose unsteadily to my feet. The hem of my gown suddenly felt very heavy.

My Father's arm gripped my sleeve tightly, unwilling to let me go. Surprised I looked down at his seated form, and took in his confused, panicked eyes, his trembling hands.

His hand dropped as the Queen turned her impatient glare upon him.

I followed the Queen as we entered the Princess's chambers once more. She strode decisively to the centre of the room, ignoring her daughter's covered body swathed in black velvet and protected by the holy cross. Her gaze seemed to fall eagerly upon me, a dangerous gleam in her eye.

"Close the door, girl," the emotionless voice instructed me.

Reluctantly, I did as I was told.

"Now, go and stand next to window."

Uncertainly, I stepped slowly into the pool of golden light streaming determinedly through the barbed and narrow window. The sudden strength of the light made me wince.

There was a choked moan from the Queen's direction. Startled, I lifted my eyes up to her.

"_Yes_…" she whispered. She stepped closer to me. "Yes…"

The dark eyes travelled slowly across my face, lingering on the line of my jaw, the bridge of my nose.

Fear crept slowly into my mind. This Queen, this woman looked dangerous.

She began to mutter feverishly to herself, her lips moving too fast for me to follow. Slipping into my courtier mask, I trained my eyes away from her, focussing instead on the delicious way the sunlight bathed the cold walls, the golden tint it cast on heavy curtains, the-

"You may have a seat." The fearsomely hard voice had returned. I glanced towards our Queen cautiously, as I lowered myself onto the stool beside the window. Clasping my hands together uncertainly, I waited for her to begin.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter II**

"The Princess," the Queen began in that foreign, tired tone "was betrothed. Yes, girl," she snapped impatiently, noticing the surprise that I had failed to restrain flash across my face, "she was betrothed. The late King and I had promised her to the Crown Prince of Karlsburg before the birth. We were… fortunate that we secured their word before they could align themselves with King Gallo of Iberia. What a celebration we had the night we finalized the plans with their envoys! Their Crown Prince could not have been more than five years old then – what great confidence we had! The princess was to be the saviour of the people, the preserver of the Valerian interest.

"And then, she was born. Such a small, sickly little thing!" The Queen arose and clutched the windowsill tightly. "The first time I saw her, I thought – Good God, she looks so frail! This is the girl who is to be the great protector of Valeria? She looks as if she won't live to see her seventh year, let alone her seventeenth!

"And so we secluded her away. We could not have let word out to Karlsburg that the Princess was not the bright, lively beauty we had promised she would be – we could not let reports of the slip of a princess reach beyond the borders. There are many powers that would gloat at our misfortune, humiliate us and turn it to their own advantage. And, we could not risk upsetting the alliance we had built with Karlsburg – no, we made sure they never suspected a thing!" Here, she gave a short, derisive laugh. "They asked for portraits of their future Queen – and we spread the rumours that the Princess was a beauty like no other, that men would fall to their knees in front of her countenance to pacify them. We told them it was Valerian tradition for a betrothed Princess to not be painted, immortalised in art, until she was united with the Prince she was promised to. Oh, what pretty phrases and flattering poetry we spawned! The King asked for a correspondence between the Prince and our daughter. Once again, we denied, but sent the Karlsburg court a very valuable tapestry to soothe their ruffled feathers – one of Princess's favourite works, we informed them. Lie, after lie, deceit that was never-ending – because of that sickly girl! Many a sleepless might I have spent, turning over the inevitable future in my mind. The agreement was that the betrothal would be formally announced a fortnight before the Princess's seventeenth birthday, and she would depart Valeria for Karlsburg the day she turned of age. The wedding was set for a month after her arrival – the Prince's twenty-fourth birthday. How was I supposed to turn over this delicate, breakable girl, who had neither beauty nor health nor wit to recommend her? The dilemma played on my mind increasingly, as we hoped, prayed, begged for a miracle, for a cure to the Princess's failings.

"And then… and then, she was gone.

"I will not lie and say I was not gratified on some base level. Yes – look as shocked and righteous as you may! But that will not change the sense of relief I felt at the passing. I lost a daughter, yes – but God knows how it appeared at first – as a card of fate, bringing an end to my struggle! Yes, I was relieved, I was gratified, I will not deny that. However, when I left these quarters three nights ago, when those unholy feelings of euphoria finally abated, I came face to face with the issue that now seemed more twisted than ever.

"You must be aware of the position of Valeria in comparison to Karlsburg and our other neighbouring states. They see us as small, insignificant, easily overwhelmed. To an extent it is true. The mere size of the Karlsburgian army could engulf our entire population five times over. Foreign fallouts, strained relations are not even considerable options! One crossed sword would shake this country to its very core! In one, short month, it will be what should have been the Princess's seventeenth day of birth. This dreaded day that I have apprehended and feared for years – it is now set to come – and I have no daughter to hand over!" Despondently, she turned to face me with dark eyes. "I see you do not understand – of course not! How could you? How could anyone comprehend such paradoxical agony?"

I swallowed nervously. "You are right, Your Majesty." I said lowly, nervously. "I do not understand. I am saddened by her – the Princess' passing. But I fail to see how this is related to me."

"Indeed…" Her mouth disappeared into a tiny, hard line. "But I do not require you to understand. No, that is of little matter. This is a circumstantial matter. Yes, purely _circumstantial_… a preventive measure." A feverish fire lit up behind her glassy eyes. "For the good of Valeria, yes? It is for the good of our country, for the good of Valeria that we must all do our part, play an assigned role. Why not this one?"

The knot in my stomach tightened as an ominous sense of foreboding began to steal over me. _Surely not_, I thought desperately. _That would be madness_.

But when the Queen turned fully to face me with a rigid jaw, her words could not be avoided. "_You_ have the look of nobility – despite the ambiguous nature of your origin." Her words tumbled out rushed, an unstoppable wave. "Yes, I have noticed you before, whenever I visited my daughter's quarters. There were even times when a cursed the liveliness, the aristocratic appearance of your face, next to the drawn, pallid countenance of the Princess. You are what they expect the Princess to be – those high cheekbones, those wide eyes! Hair the colour of gold, eyes the shade of the ocean! Skin pale from being secluded in the Hidden Court, unblemished from falling on stones of the courtyard, a demeanour that has never been exposed to the world of men! There was a time when I despised your beauty – but now, I am desperate, thankful for it."

"Please, Your Majesty!" I cried. I stood up, frightened by the intensity and repercussions of her words. The wooden stool fell over onto the ornamental carpet with a dull thud. "These are poisonous words! I beg you, speak no more."

"No, no," she retorted with fearsome lucidity. "Not poison, girl, but _providence_. Yes, providence. Fate seems to have created you solely for this role – even your age is fitting! Oh, I checked," she murmured darkly, seeing the confusion at this knowledge on my features, "I assure you, I did. I need a solution. Valeria needs a solution! I have – the country has – banked so much on this happenstance. And you, you have a Princess's beauty! You have the countenance that was reported to have brought a pageboy to his knees the last time you were permitted to exit this wing! You have the fitting age, a few months younger you may be, but passable nonetheless! My dear girl, think of the country!"

The Queen, our formidable monarch dropped to her knees before me. Panicked, I reached out, hands hovering uncertainly above her shoulder.

"Your Majesty, please – this is improper. This is madness, sheer madness!"

"Listen to me," she ordered. I fell silent at the command – even now, on her knees, she carried an icy, regal edge in her tone that instinctively forbade me from crossing her. "I come here before you, not as the Queen of Valeria, but as a mother, a mother tormented and threatened. You can help me repent my mistakes – oh, the mistakes I have made!" For a moment, I fancied that I could detect real remorse in her words. "Should I not deliver on my promises, find some way to satisfy the demands I have enforced upon myself, they will consume this country one by one." The Queen looked up at me with fearful eyes. "Can't you see, girl? Can you not see that, as much as it pains me to have come to this, _you_ are this nation's last hope. Will you take the Princess' place in the royal court of Karlsburg?"

"You Majesty!" I jolted back uneasily. "You cannot be asking me to – I _could_ not… This is treason, Your Majesty!"

"And so you would condemn this country, _my_ country to its demise?" The black depths of her eyes burned furiously, scorching my skin with their ferociousness. She rose imperiously to her feet, her warlike stance striking a chord of fear into my mind. "Valeria has stood for eons, and will stand for many more! Not even your… _insolence_," she sneered the word, "can prevent God's will."

"_God's_ will?" I questioned desperately. "Your Majesty, I-I hardly think that masquerading as a dead Princess in a powerful court can be God's intention!"

She seemed to ignore my frantic words as she talked feverishly over my pleas. "…the part must be played convincingly of course, you look the part, but your posture must be improved, your knowledge of Valerian history reinforced, new gowns, new pursuits – there is no time to instruct you to ride, but it is of no matter, a carriage will do for the journey across the border-"

"Your Majesty," I said loudly. "Your Majesty!"

She stopped midflow and regarded me with the wild-eyed gaze.

I swallowed. "And what if I refuse?" I asked quietly, keeping my voice as low and as tranquil as possible.

The Queen stared blankly at me, before breaking into a chillingly feral smile. "Well naturally, you will know too much. And I cannot abide the danger of a drunken slip, a loose tongue spilling the country's secrets into some dubious tavern. Yes," she tilted her head to one side and regarded me out the corner of her eye, "should you refuse, child, I shall have to find you a more… _permanent_ confinement. And your father too. He was the musician for the Princess, was he not?"

I shook my head in anger. "You cannot," I spat out, hurling the words as though they were poison. "It is wrong of you to force me in this manner. Y-You are the Queen!"

"Yes!" she hissed as she pounced on my words. "I am the first and foremost the Queen of Valeria. Not a loving mother, even less so a compassionate royal. What I do I do for the _good_ of _my country_. And you _will_ follow my command."

She stopped, the venom still evident on her face. Turning away, I distantly watched her collect herself together, piecing together the icy façade I had watched from afar for sixteen years.

"I have said enough." I did not have to look at her while she spoke to know that she was once more our feared, coldly regal monarch. "I will leave you now. I trust that would like some time to yourself."

I remained silent as her light steps tapped away - but paused at the door. Raising my head, I saw her regarding me with a complex expression. "I will not pretend to leave you with a choice. I have made my intentions quite clear." She spoke quieter now, and for good reason. She was a warrior – she could sense when her battle was won. "You have a strong spirit. Though I did not appreciate your defiance, I can see that you have the will and self-control to play the part I have entrusted to you."

Resentfully, I turned away.

"There, your insolence materialises again." There was a satisfied edge to her tone that discomfited me. To think that this woman was prostrate on her knees mere minutes ago was unfathomable. "Although this plan was formed before I chose to inform you, my hopes have only been bolstered by discovering your character. I believe that with discipline and the appropriate training, you shall create the very façade of a Princess in not only appearance, but spirit. I am assured you will perform admirably."

There was a heavy pause. Then she spoke again, in a low, low tone that reverberated in my head.

"In another life, perhaps, I would have felt sorry or regretful for the task I have given you." Her voice was a little tired and heavier now, musing lifelessly. "I do understand that it is an exquisite burden. You are so very, very _young_." She paused uncertainly, in a manner that I had never related to our impeccably cold monarch. "As young as my daughter was."

A lump caught in my throat. I started to turn around. "Your Majesty, I-"

"I will send someone to you tomorrow. The preparation for your role must commence soon." With that hurried message, the door opened quickly. I only caught a glimpse of her black hair and golden crown as she swept out the room, leaving me and the royal corpse behind.

* * *

**A/N: And so we have Chapter Two. I have great hopes for this story. I hope I will be able to update soon.**

**As always - please review if you have the time! Encouragement does wonders for my motivation...**


End file.
